The Lion and the Snake
by MichaelaElse
Summary: Time-Turner FanFic. Hermione after Dumbledore's death receives a package from the dead that hurtles her back into time to help the first fall of the Dark Lord. She was the original Spy of the First Order, turned Prisoner of War. Not everything as it seems in the bleakness of war - she flees with a secret that changes time and creates a second prophecy. DARK FIC,RAPE,PREG,DEATH. WIP
1. CONTENTS, DISCLAIMER & DEDICATIONS

**Title:** The Lion and the Snake  
**Author name:** MichaelaElse  
**Author email: **Michaela . Else Hotmail . co . uk  
**Category:** Adventure  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Hermione Voldemort Lion Snake  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP, HBP  
**Summary:** Time-Turner FanFic. Hermione after Dumbledore's death receives a package from the dead that hurtles her back into time to help the first fall of the Dark Lord. She was the original Spy of the First Order, turned Prisoner of War. Not everything as it seems in the bleakness of war - she flees with a secret that changes time and creates a second prophecy. DARK FIC, RAPE, PREG, DEATH. WIP  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. All things that cannot be identified from the Harry Potter series are an original creation of MichaelaElse for the sole purpose of this story.

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**The Lion and the Snake  
by Michaela Else**

Dedication: To J. K. Rowling for creating the magical world of Harry Potter and awakening creativity within a generation.

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**CONTENTS**

**Chapter I: A Dead Man's Mission **(COMPLETED/SUBMITTED)

**Chapter II: A Christian Lion-Hearted Man **(COMPLETED/SUBMITTED)

**Chapter III: Sorted into the Pit of Vipers** (INCOMPLETE/NOT SUBMITTED)

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**A/N: **I've deleted and re-submitted this story because when I uploaded the CONTENTS, DISCLAIMERS & DEDICATIONS page and re-arranged the chapters the contents had my original prologue reviews.

**PLEASE REVIEW, ONE-LINERS OR CRITIQUES BUT PLEASE REVIEW EVERY CHAPTER**  
_(They are provide great motivation to complete a chapter quicker)_

SORRY FOR THE HASSLE BUT I WANT THIS STORY PERFECT BEFORE I EDIT IT UPON IT'S COMPLETION.

**THIS WILL BE THE ONLY TIME 'THE LION AND THE SNAKE' WILL BE DELETED BEFORE IT'S EDIT**

**- MichaelaElse**


	2. Prologue

**A/N:** This is my first time dabbling into the world of Harry Potter. JK Rowling created a world that seems so endless and magical I could never claim to call it my own - I never liked to read until I read Harry Potter (since I have difficulties reading and writing). She got me inspired to write my own book that I would love to see published within my lifetime but now I'm trying to work on my writing and plot skills.

This is dark, explicit scenes in later chapters will be edited out and posted on for older audiences.

I like the whole LV/HG and TRJr/HG or Tomione concept, it's a challenge to write and keep the characters cannon and make the whole thing believable to the greatest of Harry Potter fans.

I've read all of the books - I own the bonus books from the series including 'The Magical World of Harry Potter' by David Colbert that I bought when I received my pre-ordered Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

I hope you like the story as much as I like to challenge myself writing it.

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She was ruined, beaten, broken and used. She felt filthy huddled in a tight ball to shield her already used and broken body from further abuse that she knew would come – it was inevitable. He always came, his presence a light within her dark claustrophobic world that closed in on her with vengeance when he left her used. His essence mingled with her own at the apex of her thighs, scolding hot that made her roll and shiver in a mixture of pleasure and disgust. She shouldn't enjoy this – how fucked up had she become in her solitude and imprisonment. Why did he keep her alive?

He sneered at her, called her his whore, how she loved to be beaten, broken and dominated – it was always the same. The door swung shut, the blinding light left along with him. Only then did she let the tears fall, she felt disgusted on having given in again after fighting with the Snake tooth and nail until the Lion roared one final time in defeat- pacing away in its cage until the next fight. Sobs wracked her body as she nuzzled into the pillow, how it smelled of him and that made her sob even harder under the realisation – that his scent pleased her. The awry sheets clung to her body, wrapped around her limbs as she flailed, punching at the mattress in anger at her own stupidity. Rage. Rage, it consumed her as her tears of sadness and recognition became angry tears, the saline clung to her locks as they ran from her face, her hazel eyes ablaze in the darkness as she glared at the corners of the room shrouded in darkness.

Her muscles cramped in protest as she began to move off the bed – he had thoroughly fucked her, her core ached and burned from the abuse while her limbs felt like lead as she staggered over to the adjoining bathroom to run a scalding hot bath. Her nudity the least of her worries as she glanced in the full length mirror in front of her in the tiled room. Her hair was knotted, her body flushed in an alluring after-pleasure way. She stopped the running water and descended into the hot water with a pleasurable hiss, her muscles spasm as the heat seeped in to offer comfort.

For hours, it seemed, she laid there, the water never getting cooler with time, she laid there with her eyes closed before descending below water, her hair swaying along the calm water before she ascended and broke the surface for much needed air to her lungs that burned in protest. Only then when all emotions slipped from her face and consciousness did she reach for a wash cloth and cleansed her body, working from her face, neck, collar bone and down her body until ascending her legs from the ankles until she reached the apex of her thighs to cleanse the fluids of their joining. The cloth wiped at her sex, her legs twitched as her wandering hand grazed her over-sensitive nerve bundle. Her breath hitched as she remembered their activities. How he flung her to the bed and grappled her, pinned her but still she fought like a raging lion worthy of the Gryffindor name. She hissed and spat yet he only chuckled before she planted a swift elbow to the ribs and scrambled away only to have a heavy weight pin her into the mattress, all through that she began to get wet, their unique foreplay until her lust ruled her and she gave in like a lioness in heat – bending to the will of the snake. His body aligned with hers, he was everywhere – his hands ever wandering with gentle strokes, firm gropes and harsh slaps that made her mewl. In those moments she was his – surrendering to the pleasure he gave.

She was brought from her fantasy with a strangled cry, her hips jerked swiftly before she let out a shuddering sigh as she tossed the wash cloth onto the floor, she had done it again. She brought comfort to herself in the way she could even though she could only fantasise about him – as he was her only. The aching tight sensation flared back to life with her ministrations, the cycle began again as rage and lust clouded her mind.

She barely registered the door opening and clicking shut but his sneering voice was something that couldn't be ignored. She lifted her gaze to the tall man cloaked in black, his dark eyes peering down at her looking at her nude body from beneath the clear water.

She growled and gracefully stood, the water cascading down her smooth body as she glared down at him from her vantage point, ready to strike.

She vowed, she would escape this place.


	3. Chapter I: A Dead Man's Mission

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.  
Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

**- Edgar Allen Poe  
**

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**Chapter I: A Dead Man's Mission**

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was dead.

The soft security blanket that kept children warm and safe in their beds at night had been extinguished from this Earth much like a naked flame open to the bitter gales –it was inevitable. The light that brought hope to many witches and wizards was swallowed by the encroaching darkness that flanked the advanced of Lord Voldemort. Wizarding Britain waited with bated breath as the funeral of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore took place – his body laid to rest where no other Headmaster of Hogwarts in history had the honour –upon the ground of Hogwarts itself, as reminder to the students of the present and future – 'Even in death – never lose hope and always remember Love.'

She had to act fast – upon Albus Dumbledore's death the protective wards around her childhood home had ceased to exist when he breathed his last breath and his soul transcended to the Afterlife through the Veil.

"Hermione – Tea's ready!", her Mother called up the stars to her daughter that upon arriving back from Hogwarts had locked herself up in her room under the pretences to grieve Dumbledore's death while in reality she was up to something more heart-breaking as she held her breath, waiting, always waiting, for her Mother to return to the living room to her husband carrying the tea tray before placing it on the coffee table in front of them.

"Coming, Mom!"

Hermione clutched her chest and willed the welling tears that stung her eyes to abate as she tried to ease her racing heart into a more natural rhythm. She closed her eyes and let out an emotional shaky sigh – taking an involuntary step back she whipped her head round from the closed bedroom door in front of her- Her last muggle defence around her personal fortress that her parents respected. Now she wished they were more forceful and intervened with her 'private grieving' instead of letting her be alone with her own thoughts and that brought her to her unconsciously shifting the gip of her wand in her right hand. She gazed down at it wondering if she could go through with her plan to safeguard her parents.

The longer she contemplated on doing the task boosted the risk that she would be attacked because of her blood status and in turn her parents would pay the price because of their daughter. She couldn't allow them to die for her – be another casualty to a war they weren't privy to.

With that thought in her mind she eased her bedroom door open, her small beaded bag attached to her jeans belt loop, she glanced once over her shoulder at her childhood bedroom that soon will cease to exist if her spell was cast correctly. She didn't bother closing the door behind her and left the security of those four walls that she had hidden within for the past two weeks. Two whole weeks without protection and soon she will rectify it.

Slowly she crept down the stairs, her footsteps calculated as her weight eased onto each step. She didn't want to attract her parents' unwanted attention and postpone her plan for another minute, another hour or another day. It needed to be done and when she eased herself off the last step and crept by to the ajar living room door; she exhaled the breath she unknowingly held throughout her descent. Her parents' backs presented her – sitting on the couch – her Mother pouring tea and glancing up to the news on the television that had caught her husband's attention, something about another disaster in London – something about a bridge collapsing and a riverside Barge sinking under suspicious and unexplained circumstances.

It had begun the attack on the muggle world. With that fresh in her mind she lifted her wand and pointed it towards her parents.

"Obliviate"

A small light emitted at the end of her wand, she glanced about the room as her static self was erased from the family photographs on display – portraits became blank – groups became photos of her parents with a gaping hole between them. Her spell was a success, now she began to modify their memories and implanted them with a need to relocate to Australia.

With her work done she turned tail and ran away from the scene, she couldn't stand the overwhelming guilt as she apparated away from the Granger – now Wilkins- residence. She appeared into Space at the Burrow but not before apparating to a few locations around the UK, including The Giant's Causeway, The Victoria and Albert Museum in London and a few more Muggle tourist destinations before arriving at the Weasley household.

The loneliest moments of her life lasted split seconds even though to her numbed mind it felt more like minutes as she stumbled across the lane to the Burrow and passed through the Apparition wards to be greeted with Ginny Weasley at the door along with her Mother and Ron poking his head over his Mother's blockade to keep her youngest son and his older insensitive siblings from harassing the poor girl until Ginny put her arm around the emotional Hermione to steer her towards the open back door – Ginny was the only one that understood wholly why Hermione was in a daze – the other's believed that Moody or Kingsley had handled the obliviating of Hermione's Parents.

"Are you Ok, Hermione?" Ginny tentatively asked as she glanced sideways, her head jerking to rid her of the curtain of hair to get a look at her fellow Gryffindor at her side. She then took in Hermione's appearance – she was wearing skinny jeans, a tank top underneath her baby pink hoody – her outfit awfully familiar to the one she wore in her third year when her and Harry saved Sirius Black from the Dementor's Kiss. Her white- pink and stonewashed jeans complimented her light brown ringlets that framed her face and bushed out in sheer volume. Hermione wished she wasn't cursed with thick and obsessively curly hair. The summer heat frazzled her curls into a frizzy mess that resembled a Lion's mane.

"I could be better Ginny, but now I know they'll be safe." Hermione replied smoothly, her voice seemed more detached than normal.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow in Hermione's direction but remained silent and let it be., They entered the Burrow and then the bombardment ensued – Rom and Mrs Weasley was fawning over her but Ron's run-a-mile-a-minute mouth got him pushed towards the stairs under the pretences of 'tidying his room'. Hermione let out an amused snort as she herself was ushered over to the table with a plate piled high with steaming pancaked smothered with melted butter and syrup already on the table in front of her designated seat.

* * *

The rest of the day was full of tense silence and awkward conversation in attempt to get Hermione's mind off what had happened to her parents, it was like grieving for the living, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had died and reborn into someone different with no recollection of their past life until their memories were restored – if they were ever restored – someone would have to survive the War and find them in Australia and bring them back to the United Kingdom to a life they might not ever want anymore. Fear gripped her as she swallowed thickly at the thought – they might never want her again and their old lives. She gave them a new beginning with no responsibility of a child or the threat hanging over their heads of a war they didn't comprehend.

The sun hung low over the hills; its light darkened the sky to dusky orange, rouge and dark yet warm purple, the clouds a mirage of muted colour of pinks, yellows and pasty oranges in the layers of colour in the sky – yet Hermione ignored it all as she passed the lead clad windows as she climbed the rickety stairs of the Burrow to Ginny's room where she would rest for the night before the impending mission the night after where they would transport Harry Potter from Privet Drive. She had finally escaped everyone with the thanks of Ginny, holding the overzealous Ron from pursuing her and in an attempt to comfort her with his brash words that offended her with his 'emotional range of a teaspoon'. The Order would be meeting in the morning, running over every possible avenue and outcome to their plan, the possibilities of casualties or fatalities that would be the price of Harry Potter's safety, the plan in the event of the plan being a success and the most subdued subject, if their plan failed and Potter was lost.

She finally reached Ginny's room on the first floor, the room was prepared with a rolled up matt on the floor with a quilt folded, resting with the pillow on top of the futon style mattress on the floor next to Ginny's bed. The room was small and homely- much like the rest of the Burrow – with a sloping ceiling connecting to the small dormer window with its diamond shaped flashing. The light of the late sun made the warm rustic beams glow like kindling. Hermione tentatively stepped into the room, heaving a sigh as she threw her beaded bag onto Ginny's bed before turning to her own. The job wasn't hard – the mattress was heavy with age but all she had to do was roll it out, the quilt was light and a thin for the summer nights, the pillow was lumpy in places because of the feather's shafts that pricked out against the confines. She heaved another sigh as she sank onto Ginny's bed after her job was complete – she knew Mrs Weasley would have done it if she didn't have to entertain the whole Order downstairs and fill their bellies with lovely homely food – and large homely portions too!

A small wistful smile crept onto her face, as her eyes turned glassy with unshed tears and memories – why couldn't things been peaceful, with no War, Death Eaters and their leader, Lord Voldemort. Why did they have to cause so much suffering to fight for illogical ideals of the minority of society – their views were backwards – something she had seen in Medieval England with its prejudice, rifts between classes and bigotry against things or people that threatened them even though they believed them to be inferior. They were so young and innocent – what would have it been like if Harry had grown up with a loving family around him, his parent's wouldn't have died because of Lord Voldemort – but would they have become friends in hind sight? They wouldn't have been the same people they were today – the events that defined them, that concreted their friendship through trials and tribulations. Would Ron and Harry still be her friends if they didn't need her intelligence? Harry was the common factor- she and Ron were friends through Harry, if it wasn't for him they wouldn't mix – they were like oil and water – they would be there but never mix.

A light rapping noise on the window gave her a fright, she jumped, and her heart began to race as the fight or flight instinct kicked in, her head whipped round to the window with her wand drawn, her eyes wide as she couldn't comprehend what she was truly seeing. There on the slim window sill outside of the window was none other than – Fawkes the Phoenix that belonged to the dearly departed, Albus Dumbledore. Her heart leaped into her throat as she uncharacteristically scrambled over Ginny's bed that was nestled in the corner along the outside wall under the window in the eaves. Her trembling fingers lifted the latch and pushed the window open slowly, allowing Fawkes to manoeuvre away from the approaching sheet of glass with a disgruntled trill before effortlessly flapping his wings a few beats before hopping down onto the bed, his red plumage set alight like fire in the sun, his crest and tail feathers long and downy much like a peacock's tail feather – looking weightless – a perfect imitation of flickering flames in the breeze that drifted through the open window. His amber eyes staring intelligently at Hermione as she looked at him in fascination – he was wild with the death of his Master he had no allegiance – he was free to roam yet here he was.

"Fawkes – what are you doing here?" she whispered her voice and face in awe and the spectacular beauty of the phoenix that was in the prime of this life. He gave another lyrical trill before inclining his head to his leg, there strapped to it was a small roll of parchment and in his talons was the twine attached to a small package no bigger than the size of her hand, he lifted his wing giving her better assess to his cargo with a tiny call.

"Oh" Hermione gasped, before setting to work to relieve him of his package and letter, she was gentle, her movements precise and abated the urge to cry in triumph of unbinding the scroll to the magnificent bird's leg. With the scroll in her hand Fawkes relinquished his hold on the small brown paper parcel before hopping off onto the interior window sill and waiting, his eyes staring down at Hermione as she stared at the name on the letter in Hogwarts green ink:

* * *

To Hermione Jean Granger

* * *

She ripped the wax Hogwarts seal in Ernest as she hurriedly unfolded the parchment to eagerly read the letter, her eyes skimmed, eyes widening with each passing sentence.

* * *

**Dear Miss Granger**,

If you are reading this now, that means I am dead and Fawkes has delivered this letter and package as I had ordered before my death. There isn't much I can tell you for its sensitive information that none of the Order should know – not even Mr Potter or Mr Weasley. In the package is an artefact similar to a modern day time-turner but this device outdates time-turner technology by hundreds of years.

All I can say, Ms. Granger, that that artefact will allow you to travel back in time to a time that needs your help the most – I can tell you this Ms' Granger, that I'm a long time acquaintance of yours long before your true birth, your help is gravely needed and I advise you to use this device or events that should have happened will never happen and the outcome of the First War would not have been in our favour.

**From,**

**Albus Dumbledore**  
**Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**PS.** Give Fawkes a stroke on the chest – he loves that.

**PPS.** When you open the package, anything you wish to have with you must be on your person, keep this letter with you and produce it to my younger counterpart on your arrival.  
I wish you luck, Ms Granger.

* * *

At the first post script she had to smile – she could hear his jovial voice through his words alone, his affection – even in death- for his most trusted pet, Fawkes, phoenixes are known for their loyalty to their owners in life but nothing was recorded of a phoenix staying loyal to an owner after death – many phoenixes must go through a lot of owners throughout their endless lifetime yet as she looked up from the parchment to gaze lovingly at the loyal fire-bird she was almost drawn to tears at the sombre look within the amber deaths as if Fawkes knew that he was fulfilling his Master's last wish then he was free to the world once more until a worthy Master was born in the next generation but unbeknownst to her – Fawkes gained a new Master after Albus' death through the Headmaster's progeny and godson.

She lifted her free left hand to gently stroke down Fawkes' breast, his plumage emitting pleasant warmth of its own, much like the summer sun's heat sinking into her fingers on a bright afternoon. Fawkes let out another lyrical trill, lowering his head to nuzzle her petting hand affectionately, his amber eyes closed contently a tear weeping from his closed eyes and dripping onto her cold hand – the salty dropped full of sadness scolding warm to her numb fingers before he raised his head and opened his sparkling eyes and gazed up into Hermione's eyes, clucking his tongue before looking over his shoulder to the outside world – it had been a long time since he ventured out with no companionship – Hermione mused, a small frown on her face as her heart went out for the creature. He gave a sorrowful cry much like his lament on the day of Albus Dumbledore's funeral before flapping his wings and taking to the skies.

* * *

Hermione looked longingly at the shrinking figure of Fawkes flying away into the distance, the breeze tickling her frizzy brown mane of hair before she stretched onto her knees and shut the window and put it back on the latch.

She rested back on her heels on the bed and gazed at the package in a scrutinizing piercing look as if she was trying to x-ray the package with her eyes before trying to open it and triggering the artefact that Albus Dumbledore had stated was inside it.

She glanced at the door and then around the room, she was truly alone in the small room, the constant creaking of the age old building as the wood contracted in the hot sun her only company, the walls looked on with deaf ears and closed eyes in her private moment as she thought of the pros and cons of heeding Albus Dumbledore's letter and plans of her travelling back in time to a place that she was most needed and shape the world as it was now. Her efforts would allow the world to progress on this time-line and she knew – with her experience with the time-turner- that you could change time to a degree- thinking back on how her efforts with Harry in their third year saved Buckbeak and Sirius Black from death – but Sirius died two years later in the war in an event that could have happened to anyone within the Death Chamber but Bellatrix had to choose her Blood traitor cousin instead of anyone else – bringing reorder to time, extinguishing a life that should have gone out two years prior.

She knew that in truth – she should accept this mission – for she could change time by not accepting – resulting in a change in the time-line and creating a world that none of them knew not. They could have lost the First War without her help – that's what she believed Albus Dumbledore was implying within his note. Yet she couldn't possibly leave the Order, her friends and especially Harry in his time of need – could she?  
Yet what good was she here?  
If the device believed her place was needed here most of all, she would remain without travelling back in time.

Drawing a deep breath she shuffled to the edge of the bed, picking up her beaded back, opening it and placing the letter haphazardly within the depths before closing it and looping it around her jean's belt loop at her side and standing on unease feet before turning around and picking up the unassuming package into her open hand.

She stood a ways off from anything, she didn't want to drag any of the furniture within the room back in time with her, she gazed around the room lovingly one more time before bringing her attention back to the package within her hands, she pulled on the twine and he brown paper along with the twine came away, she grasped the gold medallion like pendant – absent of a chain – within one hand and discarded the packaging onto the floor without a second glance – the runes were archaic, there wasn't any dials or miniature hourglass but a winding inscription on the inside ring of the larger runes glowed within the engraved depths – the script looked like winding snakes, dots and dashes that reminded her of Morse code and Arabic, the glowing script began to slither and morph into defined characters that she could understand- ancient Latin. The dark stone in the centre was unidentifiable in colour, its inflammable depths drawing all defining colour light into it to create an opaque onyx black within its translucent surface that sparkled.

"_Semitam viam meam ad locum desit-" _she continued to turn the pendant around to continue reading the glowing latin.

"_Ut, huius lux dirige viam mihi ad verum meum pertinentibus."_ She finished, as the last syllable left her lips, a light began to glow within the dark jewel mirroring the glowering inscription before the growing strength of the light forced her to close her eyes, white spots danced along her black vision as extreme pressure tightened around her body like she was trapped in a vice between one place and another, both trying to push her to the other – both not wanting her before a the pressure popped her ears and the pressure vanished along with her body from Ginny Weasley's room at The Burrow, England in the year 1997.

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**Translations:**

'_Semitam viam meam ad locum desit'_ – 'Path my way to a place of wanting-'

'_Ut, huius lux dirige viam mihi ad verum meum pertinentibus.' _– 'May this light guide my way to my true belonging.'

(English to Latin translator belonging to Google used for these translations)

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**A/N:**An awaited chapter I must say – I hate beginning a story, I find I have to force myself through several points and arcs of a story to get to the bit I envisioned at the beginning. I hope this story stays true to canon with the Harry Potter world – I don't want it to seem so fanciful that it would seem strange within the world of Harry Potter.

Some nags I've found within Time-Turner FanFictions:

Changing Time: Yes it can be done, but some fictions go overboard and even a little thing as a pin dropping can cause catastrophe – I'm over exaggerating that point – but the principle is there. I take my view of Time and changes within it from the principles of Doctor Who. This series seems believable even with the changing of Time within episodes – such as paradoxes – these always try and repair themselves to the original time-line and I believe – if time changes it always is a short-time fix until Time and Relativity tries to repair itself to the original time-line. Yet there are cases where minor things in time change that is unknown to the original time-line but were there in the beginning but as stated – unknown. This is the principle of this story. The whole Fawkes sending the package is the paradox, an event fixed in time that cannot be altered.

OOC-ness: Yes I've found this in some stories – yet I know there isn't much known about Tom Riddle and his school days yet alone the period after graduation, his ten year absence or the First War, I respect that other authors show their take of Tom Riddle but it isn't something I would portray my Tom Riddle as. He's a manipulator – a true Slytherin, he's a charmer, polite to the point of sheer cold indifference and I believe him to crack a wide smile would strain his veneer of mystery that attracts us to Tom Riddle and create a 3 dimensional character of a 2 dimensional villain of the Harry Potter series.

Tragic-Past at Wool's Orphanage: Yes bullying was writhe within the 1940's as anywhere else within the world at any time - I too was bullied but that didn't make me into a mass murdering sociopath – no. There is speculation that some people are just born bad and born to kill, there has been many mass murderers and serial killers. THERE IS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TWO. A mass murderer is labelled if one culprit killed four or more people within one event a set location at any given time- more often than not the murderer has a relationship to the victims. This is also known as a revenge killings or rampage killings that often result in the murderer killing oneself before getting apprehended by the law. A Serial Killer, often more than not doesn't personally know their victims, a plan is set and one or more victims are most likely tortured before being killed. The murderer often waits before killing again, often known in the profession as a 'cooling off period', before hunting for a victim and pouncing again.

Tom Riddle/Voldemort is capable of mass murder aka 'genocide' but has the patience and the brain that would come with being a Serial Killer.  
The Difference – as stated Mass Murders are known as revenge killings, thus insinuating that something of importance that wronged the would-be murderer drove them to that extreme while specialists believe that when 'people are born bad' they refer to Serial Killers, some have mental problems and in cases have tragic events that occurred that resorted them to this.

I would label Voldemort as a Serial Killer for the most part rather than a mass murderer but how would that explain the sheer number of Inferi in that mass of water in the cave?  
I have a plan for this to be explained within this story (you thought I was going to tell you there – didn't you? I was tempted.)

_**- MichaelaElse**_

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**NOW IF YOU DON'T LIKE WHAT I HAVE INSTORE FOR MY PORTRAYAL OF TOM RIDDLE JR./LORD VOLDEMORT PLEASE LEAVE IF YOUR ONLY PURPOSE OF BEING HERE IS TO FLAME ME.**

* * *

**I want to write this story and share it with other Harry Potter fanfic writers and a reader because I believe this plot is somewhat original and would like to expand my skills and at the same time contribute to the fandom that shared my childhood all the way up into early adulthood. **

**POTTERverse SHALL LIVE ON THROUGH COUNTLESS GENERATIONS AND WRITINGS CREATED BY DEDICATED FANS**


	4. Chapter II: A Christian Lion Hearted Man

'_Take this in hand  
Said he who stands  
Behind the chair  
A broken table there'_

_- 'Every Christian Lion Hearted Man Will Show You' by the Bee Gees, 1967_

**Chapter II: A Christian Lion Hearted Man**

The experience was horrible. Who would invent an object that would inflict such pain to its user in the event of Time Travel? At that she wanted to give it's inventor a serious talking to, giving him or her one of Hermione Granger's notorious, righteous and clinically correct opinion to their workmanship and how to rectify said problem before ever allowing anyone in existence from using the object before they did it! Gah, the pain was mind-numbing, her whole body felt warmly numb as needles danced over her skin in waves but as the minutes of darkness progressed the pain decreased to a slight hum to its original intensity, the cogs in her mind began to lubricate and creak into living as they began to spin, the lights flicked on, the blinding light of, whatever it was, pierced her eyelids and made her groan in pain as the after effects created a headache. Slowly her eyelids fluttered open, her sight was met with gold and grey, she blinked again and the blobs of colour began to focus into distinct objects – a grey stone wall and gold gilding on an object in front of said wall. She blinked once more, details heightened into depth and height, light and shadows – WOULD THAT THING STOP GLARING THE LIGHT RIGHT AT HER! – she brought a hand over her brow to shield her sensitive eyes from the glaring light streaking from the reflective gold, the thing was tall and her subconscious sent a vibe of recognition to her thought process as she followed the structure up to the tall vaulted ceiling that distinctly looked medieval in construction – all masonry – she let her eyes scan back down to the top of the structure from the ceiling to see a gold rampant lion with its mouth agape perched on top of the structure that was solely constructed of glass and gold. The vibe again barged to the forefront of her mind with much more force – a spark flickered to life instantly as her gaze worriedly swooped along the hall to three more hour-glass shapes standing in a row along a wall, both pairs separated by a large wooden arch door. Her blood ran cold instantly – she was in the entrance hall of Hogwarts, how was that possible? Time-Turners only turned time, they didn't change your location in Space at all – but – she reminded herself, that the object clutched within her hand wasn't a Time-Turner. She inhaled a deep breath, she looked to her left, her sight was met with a stone wall, she turned her head to the right, she was met with an uninterrupted view of an empty Entrance Hall and the majority of that view was of a floor, a very worn floor, cold seeped into her body through her back, no wonder she felt so secure – she was laid flat on her back. She couldn't remember falling, she couldn't remember anything of the experience from travelling here – it felt like she didn't move at all. She groaned as she brought herself to her elbows and knees. She opened her right fist and stared wide-eyed at the glittering gold and onyx object in her palm. It looked so innocent, the Latin she remembered reading returned to the incomprehensible script before she travelled back to this Time. She dragged herself to her knees, she opened her beaded-bag, which thank-fully was still attached to her belt-loop throughout the journey, she pocketed the artefact into its bottomless cavern along with Dumbledore's letter and the necessities she packed for the Horcrux hunt – which she will never do now. She sighed and braced herself against the wall and pushed herself to her feet and walked around the Gryffindor hour-glass into the mass expanse of the empty entrance hall.

"Who goes there?"

Her heart jumped into her throat as she spun round to see a rather younger Professor Slughorn in front of the entrance to the Dungeons, wearing his customary tweed jacket, a black cloak around his shoulders, straining around his plump frame as he scrutinized her with his beady blue eyes of his.

The moments of silence was deafening, straining as she struggled to think of an excuse up so quickly and off kilter.  
"I'm sorry Professor, I was looking for Professor Dumbledore – I'm a transfer student, seventh year, and I'm here for a meeting but my parents unfortunately couldn't accompany me"

The guarded expression wasn't something she didn't see much on the Professor in her own time, he seemed so trusting and gullible but it seemed her story didn't ring true with the long pause she gave upon answering him.  
"I'm sorry, Miss-" he began, his voice imploring for her name.  
"Granger, Hermione Granger" she replied instantly. And as soon as the first syllable of 'Granger' left her mouth she wanted to bang her own head against a very solid wall exclaiming her own stupidity of giving her own name to the Professor.

A flicker of recognition crossed his features, his face lit up, a beaming smile split the thin grim line of his lips, she was confused at the reaction to her name upon the man, hopefully it didn't show on her face – if it did he didn't acknowledge it as he merrily strode up to her, courteously taking her by the arm.

"Allow me to escort you, Miss Granger, I'm sure Albus will be eagerly expecting you!", his deep voice definitely sounded merry – almost, if not more merry as the tone he used with Harry back in her time- but one thing remained, she wasn't famous like Harry Potter, so he couldn't want to add her into his 'collection'.

They walked at a merry pace all of their own, his steps many but no overly hurried, as he kept glancing at Hermione in the corner of his eyes before looking straight ahead.  
"I'm sure you will love Hogwarts, my dear-"

His merry chattering carried on all the way to the corridor leading to the Headmaster's office, so it was indeed a time where Professor Dumbledore had become the Headmaster – that could be dated around 1955 to 1997, the year of his death, and she had no way of knowing until it was brought up in conversation or she spied a Daily Prophet- which was highly unlikely as they approached the gargoyle standing guard.

"Lemon drop"

Hermione tried to remain indifferent at the silly password that reminded her so much of her Dumbledore's wit and distinctly English sense of humour. A small smile graced her face as the gargoyle leaped aside to admit them entry to the revolving staircase.

"Ladies first, Miss Granger" Slughorn courteously said, waving his hand to the entrance and the stone steps spiralling out of view.

"Thank-you, Professor"

She didn't need to be told twice – it could have been good old English manners allowing a woman to lead the way, Slughorn was of the older generation, but he did seem younger and less rounded around the middle and jovial as if the First War wasn't at its peak of destruction like it was in the Marauders era so that narrowed it down some more and now fear of the unknown gripped her – she wouldn't have any familiar faces here at Hogwarts other than the staff if her assumptions were correct. Yet she didn't falter in her rhythmical steps until she reached the landing and the large arched wooden door with its iron strengthening bars and decoration with an old fashioned lever handle with a large ring.

A booming knock broke her out of her revelry, making her startle and make her body lurch in surprise, a loud chuckle came to her left.  
"Sorry, my dear"

"Not at all-" she began but the door swung open of its own accord followed by a familiar voice, jovial and light as always – bidding them entrance.

Slughorn disappeared into the Headmaster's office and Hermione followed after him with slower more hesitant steps as she glanced around the room taking in the familiar nonsense objects that she didn't know the names or purposes to half of them scattered about the room in chaotic order that was distinctly Albus Dumbledore fashion. She glanced at Fawkes, the phoenix sat on his perch in much the same condition she left his future self in – in the prime of one's life if not a bit aged around the edges, some feathers askew and left un-preened. He lifted his head at the newcomer and gave a light trill before turning his head to his Master that sat at the desk.

Her heart swelled at seeing her Headmaster alive and well – but in all honesty- he wasn't her Professor, she was a trespasser in Time and shouldn't be here invading a Time gone by, lived and forgotten in the many sands of Time. His blue twinkling eyes stared merrily at her if not a bit guarded as he half-hearted listened to Slughorn ramble about god knows what before getting to the point.  
"- I found Miss Granger in the Entrance Hall, Albus, she says she's here to see you about transferring!" he merrily concluded, oblivious to the silent exchange of wills – Albus' eyes searching Hermione's for information, Hermione's for trust and to go along with it.

The Headmaster was first to break eye contact as he looked back at his Potion's Professor with his jovial face, his piercing eyes looking over his half-moon glasses that perched on a crooked nose.  
"Ah, yes, I've been expecting you Miss Granger" he lightly spoke, his voice much as she remembered it, having a dreamily trust-worthy quality that lulled a relaxed heaved sigh from her as he decided to go along with the story she went with. "I'll take it from here, Horace" he added, dismissing the Potion's Master as his eyes swept to the open door to his office.

"Ah-Yes, Good Day to you Albus, Miss Granger" he replied lightly, his voice somewhat subdued than its previous jovial self, his face and body posture mirrored the same put-out quality as he hastily moved to the exit of the office and back to his preparation duties for the upcoming school year.

As the great door clicked shut the rippling warmth of magic spread over the expanse of the circular room – it seems Dumbledore was weary of the conversation ahead and nosey professors that might eavesdrop.

"Good Day to you Miss Granger, it's so kind of you to drop by without any given warning and I can assure you that are lack of prior contact will be lost on the staff"

Hermione stayed silent, uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other as she tried to keep her face indifferent and trying to hold in the urge to worry her lip between her teeth.

"Please have a seat" Dumbledore added, noting her discomfort with his piercing blue eyes of his, he didn't look much younger than she remembered him from her time, he had silver-white hair and beard that was just short of his belt around his midriff, his blue eyes seemed shades darker than she remembered but that could be the darker shade of sky blue robes he was wearing reflecting that misconception of depth in those glassy blue eyes of his that held an icy like quality to them but the twinkle radiated warmth as he waved his hand gesturing to the wooden chair in front of his large desk. The previous Headmasters portraits were silent except for a few snores or they emptied with a mere glance from the current Headmaster as his gaze swept around the room's portraits.

She obeyed silently and took the seat; it was much too large for her slight frame.  
"Professor- I'm sorry to barge in like this but I believe you sent me here-" Hermione began to explain, her voice hesitant and she hoped it wouldn't break under the pressure or the repercussions that it would bring with her being here in the past divulging even this tiny bit of information to the Headmaster.

"I certainly did not, Miss Granger"

"No, your 'other self' Professor" she pressed on instantly, almost clipping her own name as it left his mouth, at her snapping tone, Dumbledore's lips set into a thin line as he gazed down his crooked nose at her over his half-moon glasses with his elbows set on the desk in front of him and his hands and fingers linked together resting against his mouth in a sign to allow Hermione to continue her tale uninterrupted.

She hastily opened her beaded bag and dived her arm all the way up to her arm pit to retrieve the note and artefact, she glanced down at it, the metal cool and dormant in her palm before placing the parchment and the unknown object onto the writing slope in front of the Professor. He unlinked his hands and removed his elbows from the desk as he gazed down at the object in amazement. He then turned his attention to the parchment and gingerly opened the folded note to reveal his script in the emerald green ink that was within his inkwell this very moment. He removed a hand and pushed his half-moon spectacles up the bridge of his nose again before returning his attention to the seemingly innocent masterpiece of technology that all time-turners tried to replicate.

"It seems I owe you an apology, Miss Granger, it seems I was acted fast to judge but as you see we're entering dark times-"

"The war with Voldemort, Sir?"

"Indeed Miss Granger, and I won't ask you about how you know of his Name, Miss Granger, but it's safe to say that his evil has spread as far as the place you have come from." He replied, holding a hand for silence as Hermione tried to elaborate on her abrupt question.

"Do you know what you have there, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice sounded so innocent as he gestured down with a wave of his hand to the pendant like item laying innocently on his desk, twinkling in the natural light.

"No, Professor – only what you have written on that note" she gingerly answered, her eyes turned guarded as she looked over the item again looking for a sinister edge to it or something she had missed before but all was as she remembered it.

"It's known as 'The Eye of Faith', there are many fables describing its origin, some are mythical and others have written reports believing it to be a sentient being that travels in Time to where it is needed and others believe that it was created by one of the greatest wizards of known history and a founder of this very school, Miss Granger" he elaborated, his voice ever misleading her from the grave subject at hand.

"What do you believe, Sir?"

"Me? I believe that all is created and there is confidential evidence that a Founder of Hogwarts created it – the very first Time-Turner- and it has been passed down the generations of the direct descendants to the current family known as the Grangers" he deduced, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at Hermione – no, through her as the underlying message sunk into her thought processes.

"I cannot be from the Granger family you speak of, Professor; I'm a Muggle-born." She gasped, affronted at the very thought that she was from one of those stuck-up wizarding families that quoted 'I'm descended from someone famous' for all of their lives without striving to better their claim with their own achievements.

"Are you anyway related to Hugo Granger or Richard Granger?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes in suspicion but found it unwarranted when Albus Dumbledore gave her the same warming open look, but his eyes were ever so serious and guarded also.

"Hugo Granger is my father, a muggle, and Richard Granger was my Grandfather – but I never knew of him, he died before I was born, my Father said he died when he was only a boy." She slowly replied her voice strong yet hesitant as Dumbledore's face began to change to a more aggressive face but she could tell his passive aggression wasn't turned towards her.

"So magic only skipped a generation then" Dumbledore mused to himself as she swept to his feet and turned about the room in swift paces, his hands tucked to his back.

"Not much is known of Richard, he was a friend of mine here at Hogwarts when I attended, he was a fifth-generation half-blood, his Family didn't believe in keeping their bloodline pure unlike many other families…." He began rambling almost to himself but Hermione knew it was directed at her alone. "… He was an only child and when Grindlewald rose looking for….magical items… The Grangers were prime targets with well-known artefacts in their possession so he hid in the muggle world and was never seen of again in the wizarding world until ten years ago when his child was born and showed no magical abilities – it's been documented that when bloodlines are diluted with none magical folk or muggle-borns, that it's rare but not unseen that a child can be born with no magical abilities at all or can be born a squib." He concluded and stopped his pacing and returned to his desk and leaned against it towards Hermione that stayed seated, almost rooted to the spot in anticipation.

"Richard Granger was found dead this year on August 14th, died of suspected heart-attack in the muggle world but in reality was murdered by a wizard unknown- that's what the Daily Prophet has published a week ago and you, Miss Granger, just turn up in the aftermath of it all what I suspect he was tortured and murdered for" he concluded gesturing to the newly dubbed 'Eye of Faith'.

"Professor, may I ask which Founder the Grangers were descended from?" her voice was meek, her question almost searching for a reason to brag about a connection of someone long since lost but famous through history. "And now there are two of these 'Eye of Faith' in the timeline?"

"You, Miss Granger, are descended from Godric Gryffindor, himself, and Yes I believe there is, the Eye of Faith has only been rumoured to be in the Granger's possession not even Richard would deny or confirm that fact even to me, I believe his own words were 'My Family own many treasures – so many I couldn't even name half of them', the present Eye of Faith is thought to be lost with Richard's death" he concluded.

Hermione's heart leapt at the news yet she quashed the enthusiasm to be related to the noble Godric Gryffindor into the back of her mind as she concentrated at the task at hand.  
"Professor, may you safe keep this Eye of Faith, the only safest place I can think of is Hogwarts itself"

"My, Miss Granger, if Gringotts Goblins heard you say that they would never allow you one of their vaults in the future" Dumbledore merrily joked as he eased himself back into his high-backed seat. "I will do as you say Miss Granger but you will have to find the true Eye of Faith to allow me to deliver it to your past self for I believe this one shall disappear when the events make themselves known to us as well as my note also" he added in a more serious tone as he rested his elbows on the table and linked his hands again into a triangle in contemplation.

"Your safest place is here at Hogwarts, Miss Granger, and continue your academic studies and…extra circular lessons with myself" he added after a slight pause, his voice holding emphasis as he held his gaze with Miss Grangers for a moment before turning his gaze to her forehead rather than directly into her eyes.

Hermione swallowed thickly – he was using Legilimency and her mind was an open book to his penetrating gaze and nodded dumbly to his obvious suggestion on learning the art of Occulmency to protect her thoughts and memories from wayward staring even from trusted Headmasters that were masters of the art of Occulmency and Legilimency.

"Will I have to be sorted again, Sir?" she asked, her voice shaky at best and low with grave recognition.

"Indeed you will, Miss Granger, but that will be at the Sorting Ceremony on the First Day of Term like the First Years. I can offer you lodgings here and safe flooing to The Leaky Cauldron to acquire you're school supplies and a wand, I believe, I will see if Hagrid is free to be your escort for tomorrow, it's best to beat the last week rush when buying school supplies." he punctuated the finality of the conversation with a flick of his wrist, lifting the silencing ward and opening the door simultaneously and went back to his Headmaster duties her arrival interrupted. "Good day, Miss Granger, Horace will show you to the vacant Head Girl suit that will be your short term lodgings"

Hermione stood from her seat and walked over to the open door to see an expectant Horace Slughorn, pleased that he had more time with the now famous Miss Granger.

As the Potion's Professor escorted her Dumbledore's final words sunk in – '…acquire your school supplies and a wand, I believe….' She pause mid-step, excusing her clumsiness as 'tripping over her own feet' and continued to follow Professor Slughorn down the corridor. She forgot her wand on Ginny's bed in 1997. Holy Cricket.


End file.
